Keeping Up With the Potters
by NotsoSugarQueen
Summary: They are the less dramatic, classier and ultimately more legendary Kardashians of the Wizarding world. While they may not have their own TV show (a Muggle device in which pictures move), everyone is still dying to know what exactly, is happening in the lives of magic's most famed family. So ditch your Witch Weekly, because the latest dish is here. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Keeping Up With the Potters-**

**Summary: They are the less dramatic, classier and ultimately more legendary Kardashians of the Wizarding world. While they may not have their own TV show (a Muggle device in which pictures move), everyone is still dying to know what exactly, is happening in the lives of magic's most famed family. So ditch your Witch Weekly, because the latest dish is here. Please R&R!**

**A.N.: So this, my lovelies, is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I read the books when I was nine, and love them infinitely. J.K. Rowling is an amazing author, and has fascinated millions of readers for over a decade with her creation of the Wizarding world. I try to make my fanfictions as believable and seamless as possible with the books, so I hope you find this to your liking! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP… *sniffles***

**One: Scarlet Steam Engines and Snogging-**

James Sirius Potter could not wait to get out of the car. One look at his jangling knee and you could see that he was growing more impatient by the moment. Of course, the car ride had not been a particularly smooth one. About five minutes in, Lily's calico cat, Leo, had decided it would be fun to use Albus's leg as a scratching post; resulting in a row between the two younger Potter children. Gazing pointedly out the window, James knew it was better to ignore his sulking sister and irritated brother. There were far more pressing matters on his mind than that of quarreling siblings.

It was September first, and James was doing his best to ignore the utter sense of finality that had crept into his brain from the night before. He was seventeen, and it would be his final year at his beloved school. Today was the last September first when he would board the Hogwarts Express, school bound for another year. The last Sorting he would witness. A lump was forming in his throat, and he swallowed it. _Get a grip,_ he told himself. _This year is going to be epic_.

Which was true. He was Quidditch Captain of the Gryffindor team for the second year running. Having won the Cup last year, there was a pressing reminder that this year had to be just as satisfying. Sure, the team had crushed Ravenclaw in the last match, but there was no doubt that the other Houses would be returning with a vengeance. Not to mention, two players had graduated last year; Riley Thomas and Gavin O'Shea. There were two open spots on the team, and it would be tough competition. And even tougher to make the decision as to who would fill the new Chaser and Beater positions. James thought of the badge tucked in his trunk with his school robes, freshly polished, with a worn sort of dignity to it. It was the badge his father had worn as Captain, all those years ago, and his grandfather some time before that.

"Here," Harry Potter announced from the front as he parked the car. James stepped out of the car, stretching his legs, and unconsciously ruffling his hair. He retrieved his trunk from the back of the car, heaving it out onto the pavement, scanning the entrance to the station for any of his friends. By now, they were probably saving him a seat in a compartment on the train, wonderful why the hell he was late.

"Hurry up, will you," he muttered under his breath, drumming his fingers against the handle of his luggage as he waited. Once Leo was secure in his cage everyone was sure of having everything, they made their way inside the station.

King's Cross was thriving with activity, Muggles and magical alike. The way to the platform was crowded, and the Potters pushed their way through. James went first, taking the initiative and walking through the brick wall entrance with practiced ease.

The train stood in front of him in all its scarlet glory, steam puffing from the front. The large gold clock overhead signified that it was a mere seven minutes to eleven o'clock. The Potters had definitely pushed the time this year.

Al emerged on the platform behind him, grinning easily. The middle Potter resembled Harry with such utter preciseness that most people did a double take when they first met him. He could pass as a clone of the Boy Who Lived, save for the lack of a scar on his forehead.

"Lily and Mum and Dad are coming," Al informed James as they loaded their trunks on the train. Al's ferret chittered in response, and its owner rolled his eyes, tucking the cage beneath his arm.

"It's a bloody miracle we didn't miss it this year," James remarked, ruffling his brother's hair. In the presence of the familiar platform, amidst the hubbub, the nostalgia had been discarded. He was already scanning the crowds for his best mates.

"Yeah. I reckon it's Lily who makes us late. It has to be a girl thing, fussing over everything she's packed," Al agreed.

"Should I be insulted?" a familiar voice inquired. Rose Weasley appeared suddenly in the crowd. Her curly red hair was pulled back with a turquoise silk headscarf, something she'd probably bought on her holiday in France. Her mother, James's Aunt Hermione, adored the country. She was in fifth year with Al, and was undeniably a genius. Al laughed.

"Dunno," he replied. "But we need to say goodbye before the train leaves. Did you see Mum and Dad back anywhere?"

"They're all together, the lot of them," Rose nodded, gesturing for them to follow her. Neither James nor Al questioned what she was referring to by 'the lot of them.' They all knew that it could only mean that the extended Weasley and Potter clan had gathered to see their kids off.

The heroes of the Dark War stood together, talking happily. As well as Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, James spotted his Uncle George and his wife Angelina, Uncle Percy and Aunt Aubrey (looking slightly stuffy, as usual), and Uncle Bill and beautiful Aunt Fleur.

"Thought you'd gone off without saying goodbye," Ginny said, smiling as the three reached their parents. Lily had seemed to disappear, no doubt having already hugged everyone farewell.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Mum," James told her. However cool and popular he was, he loved his parents, and had a deeper appreciation for the trouble they had gone through as parents to keep their kids' lives as normal as possible for the children of the famous.

"I would definitely send you a Howler if you tried," his mother warned, drawing him in for a warm embrace. "Have a great seventh year, yeah? Better than mine. Make sure to write as often as you can. And try not to get expelled. It would be a shame if they kicked you and Fred out before N.E.W.T.s. But, regardless, I love you."

"I won't. At least, not until after exams," he reasoned. Ginny Potter smiled at her eldest son, and turned to hug Al. James looked at his father, who had paused his conversation with Uncle Ron, who in turn had stopped to talk to Rose with his wife.

"You ready?" Harry asked, looking at his son intently through his glasses.

James shrugged. "I am. At least, as ready as I'll ever be."

"You'll be a great Captain. And I know your mother made you promise not to get into too much trouble, but I'm not going to bother. You'll pull pranks anyways. It's inevitable," his father told him. A solemn smile was on his face. He hugged James tightly, clapping him on the back before pulling back. "I'm proud of you, James. I never got a seventh year. So make the best of it, so long as you keep up with your work. And if we can make it to some Quidditch games, we'll come. Write when you can." He hugged him again. "Love you, son. Now go get on the train before it leaves without you. Our car can't fly, so best not to risk it."

James grinned at his dad's joke, and kissed his mother's cheek. After bidding his extended family farewell, he headed towards the train, boarding it just as the clock hit eleven.

The first years, a nervous group, had filled the front compartments of the train, and James made his way to the end compartments, one of which he knew his friends were occupying.

Sure enough, he found the group of them in the fifth to last compartment, slightly cramped, but happy. The only one absent was Alice Longbottom, but being Head Girl, she was undoubtedly preoccupied with organizing the prefect patrols on the trai

"James!" his best friend, Fred Weasley, cried enthusiastically. He was Uncle George's son, named for his father's lost twin. Since their first day at Hogwarts, James and Fred had taken it upon themselves to give every previous Hogwards prankster a run for their money. And James having nicked the Marauder's Map from his father's study in their second year had made this goal significantly easier.

"Nice to see you, mate," James told him, taking a seat beside Fred. Across from him sat Niall Finnegan, the other boy James considered to be his best friend. Sandy haired, freckled, and very Irish, Niall was always a good laugh, and a fierce fan of Ireland's Quidditch team. Beside him was Dominique, or Dom, as she preferred. She'd decided at some point that Dominique was too prissy for her. And prissy she was not, as one could see with one look at her. She was wearing a vintage Weird Sisters tee shirt, distressed jean shorts with fishnets, and tattered red converse that had seen better days. In short, she was gorgeous, but on a completely different spectrum from that of her elder sister, Victoire. Next to her were the Scamander twins, sons of James's family friend Luna Scamander, nee Lovegood. Despite being twins, they weren't identical, something that everyone was grateful for. They were sprawled on the floor and seat next to the window, engaged in an intense game of Exploding Snap. And by the window seat on the other side of Lysander, was Anna Wood.

There was perhaps no other person more infuriating and complicated than Anna. The feeling seemed to be mutual. However, being Dom's best friend, it was difficult to constantly be rowing. She was the daughter of Oliver Wood, legendary Keeper of Puddlemere United, and Katie Bell, an expert Chaser in her Hogwarts days. Quidditch was the Wood family religion, and Anna was no exception. She was a damn good Chaser, and an obvious pick for the house team. She was certainly pretty, with thick chocolaty hair that fell in soft waves around her heart-shaped face, and amber eyes. And, James couldn't help but notice, incredibly fit from whatever summer training program she had attended.

"Jamie," Dom smiled, tossing her book aside. "We thought you were going to make a right fool of yourself and miss the train, for Godric's sake. Glad to see you made it."

Another thing about Dom, she was most likely the only person that could ever get away with calling James 'Jamie.' Her affinity for hexes most likely had something to do with it, although there was the family privilege.

"Thank Lily for that. She had to hunt all over for Leo this morning," James explained. "The monster got himself stuck in a tree somewhere. I reckon she should've left him home. He attacked Al in the car on the way to the station."

The others laughed. "I can imagine how that went," Niall interjected.

"You don't want to know," James replied darkly. "I thought Al was going to pull out his wand and jinx the thing into oblivion."

"Good thing he didn't. She's only fourteen, but I don't know if I would risk the wrath of Lily Potter," Fred said thoughtfully. "Thank Merlin she'll still be underage for awhile. The holidays will be a blast now that everyone's seventeen. We can abuse Rosie and Al and everyone else with magic and they won't be able to do a thing. Our pranks will be even more epic."

James laughed, nodding in agreement, and then glanced at his watch. "Shit, I was supposed to meet the Heads in the prefects compartment five minutes ago with the other Captains. Something about coordinating tryout schedules." He stood, making sure to have his wand in his pocket before leaving the compartment.

The prefects had picked a compartment in the middle of the train, easily accessible to everyone else. James passed a few fifth years patrolling the hall, sorting out confused first years. Unsurprisingly, Rose was inside, a newly crowned Gryffindor prefect. She was seated in between the other Gryffindor fifth year prefect, a boy named Kevin Bones, and Scorpius Malfoy. Why Minerva McGonagall had thought it fit to name a Malfoy Slytherin prefect, James couldn't figure. Inter House discrimination wasn't such a huge thing in the aftermath of the Dark War, but Scorpius's being in Slytherin had nothing to do with James's dislike. It had everything to do with the fact that he was Malfoy. How Rose was sitting comfortably next to him was definitely strange. Although, it wasn't like they seemed to be chatting it up or anything like that. If they had, James might've said something.

"Sorry I'm late," James apologized to Alice, who was standing by the window. She smiled in reply.

"Don't sweat it. We won't keep you long, but we just needed to figure out when you would hold tryouts. We need to post flyers in the house common rooms to let everyone know," she assured him. In her slim blue jeans and gold blouse, she was the picture of natural beauty, James supposed. Her face had an easy smile framed by pink lips, and her eyes were wide and blue, with straight caramel hair tied up in a ponytail. But girls like Alice didn't tend to date boys like James.

Ten minutes later, they were released back to their compartments. James was in a good mood, having scored the pitch for the coming Saturday afternoon, even though the Hufflepuff Captain, Yvonne Goldstein, had battled for it. There was probably something to do with the fact that Alice was a Gryffindor as to how they had finally managed to secure it, but James wasn't bothered by Yvonne's resentful glance.

Especially not once he ran into Trinity Weston.

Which leads to the other benefit of being an incredibly popular, and admittedly handsome Quidditch Captain of a winning team.

Girls.

This was Trinity Weston of the thick gold hair and long tan legs. Trinity was the kind of girl James dated. Or rather, shagged.

It took them moments to find one of the loos on the train, and even less than that for their lips to find each other. James's hands were on her waist, her back, the outside of her thigh, Trinity's had made their way into James's artfully rumpled hair and across the hard muscles of his washboard abdomen. She sighed against him, her lips soft and kissable. She was a good snog, that's for sure.

Ten minutes after that, they departed. There were many places James didn't mind being with girls, but the Hogwarts Express toilet wasn't one he was willing to test. Trinity gave him a lusty smile before heading off towards the compartment her friends were in, and James reciprocated with a casual smirk, his hands in his pockets.

Yes, his seventh year was definitely looking good, and they hadn't even reached the castle yet.

**Okay, so I hoped you enjoyed that, despite it's length. This is my first time writing in third person, because I usually prefer first person. However, this is how the Harry Potter books were written, so I decided that I'd try it. Besides, I felt like first person perspective didn't fit with the title. This will alternate points of view, and feature chapters from some of the Weasleys' perspectives as well, just to be clear. And those of you who read my PJO fanfiction know about my problem with updates, and getting ahold of computers. And yes, this is still contraband, if you are wondering… So I'm asking you to bear with me. As much as I love reading and writing, I also have a life and a full schedule. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and reviews are much appreciated since this is my first HP fanfiction. Thanks so much for reading, love you all!**

**Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen**


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: So I had to spend some time on my most loved PJO fanfic, ****Roadtrip!****, at the insistence of the followers of that story, and since not as many people are invested in reading this one yet, I had to push it to the side while I cranked out two chapters in the allotted time that I could snag the computer while my mother was at work. So you see, I don't believe in update schedules, and even if I did, I wouldn't be a very apt follower of them. I try, that's all I can say. Also, this chapter does feature drinking and some sexual references. If that makes you uncomfortable, I apologize. But I promise you, I don't write smut. Intense kissing scenes, yes, but I'm not super comfortable posting hardcore smuttiness on fanfiction. Anyways, Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP, as much as I wish I did.**

**Two: Boys, Parties and Other Impending Disasters**

If there was one thing you had to know about Lily Potter, it was that she was smart. But if there was one subject that she struggled in, it was boys. Seeing as to the fact that she was fourteen, this was a growing problem. Especially in comparison to the more pretentious girls in her year, the ones who flipped their hair over their shoulder and batted their lashes and ran their hot pink manicured hands along the shoulders of cute boys when they said goodbye. It didn't take a genius to dissect the gestures of flirting. Lily had grown up with Dom and Victoire as her substitute sisters, after all. She was well versed and some could even say—accomplished—in the art of flirt. But it was the receiving ends of all that sarcasm and innuendo and body language that frustrated her. In her opinion, the male sex made as much sense as a general group as Muggle technology did. Which is to say; practically none.

Most would assume that this was not the case. Lily Potter's two best friends were both boys, and not unattractive ones at that. Louis in particular, with his veela ancestry, garnered attention from girls in their year. And Hugo was a handsome as well, with Aunt Hermione's russet hair and easily tanned skin, and Uncle Ron's given height. Although the two had often offered advice, she was no closer to discovering why guys acted as they did as the Ministry was to inventing a cure for werewolf bites.

Tonight, it seemed that the problem had only mounted. This was because upon disembarking the train and climbing into the horseless carriages to the castle, Lily's friend Rebecca Warwick had informed her that Owen Carmichael, a hot Ravenclaw fifth year, had set his eyes on Lily. Obviously, she was flattered. Owen was tall and muscled, with dark brown eyes and equally dark hair, and an easy smile that made girls melt when he tossed it their way. Needless to say, he was adored. But the thing was, Lily had barely ever had a conversation with him. She might've spat a quick, snarky "Move it!" once in the hall, when his group of friends had blocked the corridor on her way to Transfiguration, but besides that, they'd barely ever interacted. So, as Lily swirled her spoon around in her pudding, she mulled over it in the back of her mind.

"Yes! Treacle tart!" Hugo crowed, snatching one up from a golden platter at his left. He had the handy ability to eat improbably amounts of food and not gain any unwanted weight. Something he'd probably inherited from his dad. Lily rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Something bothering you, Lils?" Louis asked, raising a silvery blond eyebrow. His dark blue eyes were inquisitive and narrowed in her direction.

Lily paused for a moment, her lips twisting into a scowl. Hugo laughed. "Obviously," he answered for her, swallowing his first bite of treacle tart. "What's got your knickers in a twist? If you're even wearing knickers, that is. That's a new trend I reckon."

Lily snorted. "Where'd you hear that?"

Hugo thought for a moment. "I think it was Esther Holloway, last year."

"And what exactly were you doing when she said that?"

"Snogging."

"That's what I thought. She probably wanted you to think it was sexy," Lily wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Sounds uncomfortable to me. And I wouldn't trust all the pervs our age not to look up my skirt on the stairs."

"Right you are," Louis appraised her. "So, we've established that you have knickers on to be in a twist. What's bothering you?"

"Owen Carmichael." Lily jabbed at her pudding, resting her chin on her hand.

"Why? We barely know the bloke," Hugo replied, clearly confused. "Unless he's done something. You know, if he has, Louie and I can hex him. We can't have anyone messing with our best mate. Not to mention, Mum would kill me if I didn't stick up for you."

"And here I was thinking chivalry had been revived," Lily muttered, a grin tugging at her mouth before she remembered the problem at hand. "No, he hasn't done anything. It's just, he might like to. According to Becca, anyway."

"So? Owen Carmichael fancies a snog. I still don't see why this is a problem, unless you don't want him to kiss you. It's not like girls think he's ugly or anything," Louis prompted, waiting for her to continue.

"Please. He's fit, and you know it. Don't be one of those boys who acts like they don't realize that other guys are attractive. It's just a fact of life. I'm secure enough in my femininity to say other girls are pretty," Lily lectured him. "And the problem is that we've barely ever spoken! I'm not unhappy about it; I just don't get it! I think the only thing I've ever said to him was to get out of my way. So why the hell does he suddenly have interest in taking me on a date?" her voice heightened slightly as she talked, becoming more aggressive with her pudding.

Louis and Hugo exchanged looks before laughing. "Don't be stupid. He thinks you're hot. There's nothing to understand," Louis explained simply. "At best, he wants a date, or more than one date. At worst, he just reckons you'd be a good shag."

"In which case, we'll definitely hex him, permission or not," Hugo added. "No one messes with our Lily Luna."

Lily shot him a look. "Don't be an overprotective prick now. I have brothers for that, thanks."

Hugo put his hand over his heart and swooned dramatically. "How you wound me!"

Louis and Lily rolled their eyes and laughed, and the matter of Owen Carmichael was abandoned as they moved on in conversation. But still, Lily thought of the possibility in the back of her mind. She didn't really want to shag. She was only fourteen, and she barely knew the bloke. But she'd only ever kissed a boy twice before, and that was last year in silly games they played over the holidays with a few people in her year. If anything, she'd ask Dom about it. Louis and Hugo had made matters simpler, but hadn't done much for her to form an opinion about it. She'd have to wait to decide.

"Rosie!" Roxanne called loudly as she sauntered into the dorm, yanking back the scarlet hangings around Rose's bed. Rose looked up from her Charms essay, tucking a stray auburn curl behind her ear. Before she even had a chance to continue, her cousin rambled onwards.

"Party in the Gryffindor common room tonight! To celebrate the new Quidditch team!" Roxanne sang, twirling around excitedly. "Put your books away, I'm doing your make-up."

"Roxy, I have to finish this paper for Flitwick, it's due on Monday," Rose pointed out, somewhat reluctant to close her books. The part of her that was all Hermione, hated finishing papers last minute. But there was another part of her, the part that was Ron, that wanted to ditch the books and forget about the mounting stress of fifth year. The side that a party appealed to.

"So? Do it tomorrow. Come on. Weekends are supposed to be fun. And we need to loosen up when we can, otherwise we'll have to pitch ourselves off the roof because of O.W.L.s. I swear, they're going to drive me bonkers with all these speeches about the importance of tests. Like we don't know that they're a big deal already," Roxanne said dismissively. "Besides, there are parties, and then there are Gryffindor parties. Our house is practically legendary for this sort of thing, Rosie. Pretty please with Morgana's hat on top?"

Rose sighed, giving her parchment one last look. "Fine," she agreed. "But please, try not to do anything too stupid. You know I hate having to cover for you to Fred because you're off snogging some guy in the hall."

"I don't remember that," Roxanne said, a frown crossing her face.

"Exactly. You were smashed." It was all Rose could do not to snort at her cousin. It had been a particularly huge party, seeing as to the fact that Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. Even Rose had obliged to a shot or two of firewhiskey, and danced some. But, she'd refrained from getting carried away on behalf of Roxanne's well-being.

"Oh. Right." The confusion vanished, and a foolish sort of grin replaced it. "What happened after that one?"

"You woke up in between Gavin O'Shea and Niall Finnegan with your shirt on backwards and your panties on your head," Rose replied dryly. "It's a good thing I got you out of there before they woke up. I still don't know exactly how you got in that position, either."

Roxanne shrugged, failing to look sheepish. Her affinity for being wild was something that ran in her blood. With a father like George Weasley and a brother like Fred, what else would you expect?

As her cousin opened her wardrobe and began rummaging through to find what she deemed suitable party clothes (something undoubtedly slinky, short, and revealing), Rose tucked her essay inside her textbook and capped her ink bottle before setting them on her bedside table.

"Oooooh, this would look hot on you!" Roxanne held up a purple halter belly top. "Your hair would look like fire."

Rose looked at it dubiously. It wasn't like she hadn't worn slightly inadequate clothing before. But one glance at the shirt made her wonder if it would even cover her chest.

"It stretches," Roxanne added, as if reading Rose's mind. Shaking her head, Rose stood and discarded her worn in blue v-neck and pulled the top on. It did stretch, that's for sure.

"Bloody hell, you're going to have to remind guys that your eyes are on your face and not your boobs," Roxanne remarked, grinning. "Wish I had your bustline. But I reckon you should get some jeans from Dom. She's slimmer than I am."

Rose nodded, examining the top in the mirror. Roxanne was right, her curls did look like they were aflame; the light from the chandelier in the middle of the dormitory made it look all different shades of red and gold. She had never been unhappy with her body, but she was wafer thin and average height; in comparison to Roxanne, she reasoned that she was definitely less exotic. Her cousin was taller for a girl, with curvy hips and butt. Her skin was the gorgeous mocha color that came from being biracial, and her hair was soft and thick and dark, barely tickling her shoulders. Rose, on the other hand, was simply browned from the summer sun, with freckles dotting her cheekbones and shoulders. Her hair was longer to keep the unruly curls more manageable, and her face was more angular, with sharp blue eyes and a flower mouth. The best thing about her genetics was probably her metabolism from her father. She didn't play Quidditch, but it had no effect on her weight. Of course, she didn't eat like Hugo did; but all the same, it wasn't a struggle to fit into her jeans.

"Be right back," she told Roxanne, before leaving the fifth year girls dormitory and heading up the tower, to the seventh year room. Rose stepped inside to see that it was alive with movement. The Weird Sisters music was coming from a radio on Dom's nightstand, and clothes were strewn everywhere.

"Dom!" she called, stepping over a pair of discarded silver pumps. Her eyes scanned the room and the hubbub for her elder cousin. She was in the corner, standing in what looked like some vintage red nightgown, short and silky, trimmed with black lace at the plunging neckline and hem that hit mid thigh. Even in something as extreme as that and the fishnets she was also donning, Dom looked very much herself, and not the least bit strange. The satin clung in all the right places without behind skin tight or unflattering, and her thin, leggy frame appeared to be flawless.

"Rosie!" Dom yelled over the music, smiling as she looked away from the mirror in which she was doing her make-up. "You're coming tonight?"

Rose motioned to her shirt. "Would I be wearing this otherwise?"

Dom laughed and shrugged. "Suppose not. What's up?"

"You have a pair of jeans I can borrow?" Rose asked.

Dom nodded. "Take your pick. Second to bottom drawer in my wardrobe. I recommend the ones with the gold jewels on the ass, but the brown leather cigarette pants would also be hot. Very French."

Rose turned and picked her way across the room to the wardrobe, before rummaging through the draw in question. The jeans Dom had suggested she borrow were low slung, with gold on the pockets, and with one glance at them Rose knew they would be too long for her.

"Here's the cigarette pants," Anna Wood said, tossing her a brown leather garment from where she was attending to Alice Longbottom's hair, which looked like liquid gold as a result of the straightening charm Anna was casting.

Rose held them up and in with a _what the hell_ to herself, she shimmied out of her faded blue boot cut jeans and tugged the pants on.

"Damn!" Dom cat-called jokingly, whistling loudly. "Who knew Rosie was such a sex kitten behind all those books?" Anna and Alice laughed, and Haleigh Bones and Samara Edwards joined in.

Dom dragged her to stand beside her in front of the mirror, handing her a pair of glitzy purple snakeskin stilettos to wear. "Get Roxanne up here and get ready with us. Tonight will be a blast."

Rose grinned, feeling extra daring in the leather get-up. "I'll be back," she promised, and pumps in hand, she dashed down the spiral stairs to her dormitory. Maybe Dom was right, and tonight would be a blast. Rose just hoped that Roxanne would lay off the firewhiskey, for both their sakes. Tonight, she definitely didn't feel like being a chaperone.

Fifty minutes later, they found themselves in Dom's dormitory, laughing hysterically as Samara ranted about Trinity West, a very promiscuous (or in Samara's words, slut) Hufflepuff girl in seventh year.

"I mean, that girl has no boundaries! Snogging Potter in the loo on the train? The bloody train?!" she scoffed.

"Samara, you're one to talk," Alice joked, and Samara shrugged.

"I don't deny I've had more than my fair share of boys, but hey, at least I don't have herpes," she reasoned, shuddering dramatically.

"Well, on that happy note, it's nearly six thirty. The party has probably started by now," Haleigh suggested, and Rose stood, carefully slipping her feet into Dom's heels. They pinched a little, but she had to admit they looked nice with her outfit. She didn't need to glance in the mirror to know that she looked good. Samara had helped Roxanne do Rose's make-up earlier, and had the whole dormitory had gladly allowed them to use their multiple paint pots, eyeliners, blushes and lipsticks, and other things Rose probably couldn't even name. But the finished product was well worth it. Her blue eyes were not as wide or innocent looking. Having been framed by electric blue liner and various coats of mascara and a careful bit of purple shadow, they were like chips of ice. Her lips were a bold red to match her hair, and as Samara had deemed them, "_very snog-worthy_". And so, as Rose and Roxanne accompanied the older girls down the stairs to the common room, they felt sufficiently pampered and definitely conspicuous.

Haleigh had been right; the party was in full swing when they arrived. It seemed that almost all of the House had to be there, with the exception of the majority of the lower classmen. Music blasted from an unknown source, and the plushy scarlet armchairs and sofas had been pushed aside to make way for a dance floor. None of the said seats were occupied yet, but Rose knew that in an hour or two, there would definitely be some couples, most of them drunk, all over each other in the various corners.

James and Fred seemed to be at the head of the celebration, and had procured the usual assortment of drinks, alcoholic and virgin alike. They were all displayed at the side on a large table, with red cups emblazoned with the house's mascot stacked beside them. There were gold platters as well, that had been bewitched to hover around, loaded with sweets. Rose wasn't quite sure how the two older boys had gotten ahold of them, but the treats all seemed to be from Honeydukes, even though they hadn't had a Hogsmeade visit yet.

"Let's find Al and dance!" Roxanne exclaimed, grabbing Rose's hand and tugging her towards the center of the floor.

"Wait!" Rose held up her hand, breathing hard. She could feel the music in her head, vibrating her lungs and chest and bones, urging her to dance. "I reckon I need a shot first."

"Who are you and what have you done with our Rosie?" Roxanne yelled triumphantly, and turned on her heel to make their way towards the drinks.

"Drinks, I presume?" Niall Finnegan offered.

"Two shots of firewhiskey please," Rose requested. Niall took a harder look at her and did a double take.

"Holy shit, Rose? Roxy?" his eyes went wide. "Merlin, Roxy, you don't want Fred to see you in that. He'll go ballistic."

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "The shots please, Niall. And what Fred doesn't know won't hurt him. He might not even notice."

"Likely story, with you dressed like that," Niall muttered under his breath as he poured the firewhiskey. Rose and Roxanne took the tiny glasses in their hands.

"Cheers! To one hell of a fifth year!" Roxanne squealed. They clinked the glasses together and tipped them back.

The liquid seared Rose's throat and her lips split into a smile. "Thanks, Finnegan," she said, and she turned to Roxanne. "Now, we dance."

**Okay, so the next chapter will either continue on at the party from James's, or Albus's perspective, or potentially pick up the next morning after the party. Either way, it will continue onwards into the aftermath. I wanted to sort of establish Lily as a character, because she's not frequented in many fanfictions as anything other than a cameo role. Again, if you have any critique on my writing in third person, please tell me because I usually prefer first person. For a few reviewers that were wondering, this story will feature Scorose, because I'm casting Scorpius as Albus's best friend, even though he is in Slytherin and Albus is in Gryffindor, and Scorpius, Albus, Rose and Roxanne are going to be one of the friend groups in this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and I apologize for the length. Please review! Love you all!**

**Xoxo- NotsoSugarQueen**


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N.: The third chapter is here! I appreciate all the follows and favorites and reviews that I'm receiving. I'm very glad that you all like the story so far. Anyways… here goes. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still not in possession of the rights to HP…**

**Three: This is Where Hangovers Leave You**

Al's first thought as he awoke on the floor of the common room was _fuck._ His head was pounding, and his throat had that burned, dry, bad taste that came with drinking excessive amounts of firewhiskey. Not to mention, his shirt was unbuttoned, and he was entangled with a girl in possession of a pair of scantily clad tan legs. He faintly recalled her name, she was a sixth year named Laurel, or Lyra, or something with an L. At least they hadn't shagged. As drunk as he may have been, Al doubted that he would've had sex on the floor of the common room, for all to see.

"Whatime izzit?" Lau-whatever her name mumbled, blinking her eyes open. She cracked a coy smile, her pink lipstick smudged from kissing.

"Dunno," Al shrugged, wincing as the movement earned a sharp soreness in his shoulders. Although he had already been on the team, James had made everyone participate in try-outs. Which meant that the whole team had been put through an excessive amount of conditioning the day before. To say that it had weeded out possibilities for the two new players had been an understatement. At least, Al supposed, his brother wanted the best and only the best.

"You're a good kisser, you know," the girl continued, trailing her manicured hands down his bare chest, drawing him out of his reverie.

"Anytime," Al replied smoothly, pushing himself into a standing position, doing his best to maintain his balance.

"I'm Launa," the girl added, attempting to follow suit before lurching over, one hand clasped over her mouth, her other arm around her stomach. Al blinked and turned away, heading towards the fifth year boys dormitory. He knew from experience that it would only be more embarrassment for the girl if he stuck around while she was sick in the rubbish bin.

The dormitory was home to five teenage boys, and even with the help of the house elves, it was still messy. Trunks were open, and textbooks were scattered here and there. The whole place smelled like cologne, with an underlying air of sweaty Quidditch robes, thanks to Al's discarded scarlet ensemble that he'd hastily chucked into his wardrobe the previous afternoon.

Not bothering to be quiet, he knelt down and dug through his trunk, searching for the clear bottle of a hangover cure that he'd stockpiled over the summer. Nicked fresh from Ginny Weasley's potion cupboard, it was still sealed and full. He took a quick swig, doing his best not to gag as he swallowed. The liquid was unpleasant and bitter; nevertheless, he could feel the pounding in his head reside slightly.

He glanced at his watch. It was barely eight in the morning, everyone who was awake and able to walk would be eating breakfast. Exchanging his clothes from the night before for a clean pair of jeans and tee shirt, he pocketed his wand and left his friends behind in the dormitory. Past experience had taught him not to wake a sleeping Connor MacDonald—especially not when he'd most likely had too much to drink the night before. And Kevin was about as friendly as a grizzly bear when he woke up before ten. It didn't bother Al much. Unlike James, his popularity made him uncomfortable and annoyed at times. Perhaps it had something to do with the striking likeness between him and his father.

As expected, the Great Hall was awake, with the easy laziness of the Sunday morning apparent in the slowness of the conversations. The mood was increased by the clear blue sky above. He spotted Rose and Roxanne at the end of the table, accompanied by a now put together Launa. As he approached, Launa got up, flashed him a sheepish sort of smile and brushed past him, leaving traces of strawberry perfume in her wake.

"Morning," Rose said softly. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a neat French braid, and she was wearing a neat green sweater and jeans. She picked slowly at her porridge in front of her.

"Morning," Al replied, and Rose winced visibly.

"Keep it down, yeah?" Roxanne scowled. "I have a headache that's killing me. No loud noises."

But Al wasn't listening. He was observing his other cousin carefully. There were dark crescents beneath her eyes, and her movements were careful, calculated. "Merlin, Rosie's hungover!" A grin lit up his face and he banged his fist on the table triumphantly. Having grown up with Rose, her voice was practically the whisper of morality in his ear. She had always been the good child, the one who asked the parents for permission, who didn't pull pranks on Lily and Hugo, the one who helped clean up after dinner. The only ones in their family more apt to their goody two shoes image were Molly and Lucy, Uncle Percy's daughters, both of whom were in Ravenclaw and were strict rule abiders.

"No need to shout," she snapped stiffly, her face flushing with embarrassment. "I don't really want the whole world knowing, thanks."

"I'm not going to tell the whole world, Rosie-Posy. Wait until Scorp hears…" Al trailed off, laughing as he helped himself to a plate stacked high with eggs and bacon. "How much did you drink?"

"A shot… or three?" Rose guessed uncertainly. "I'm regretting it now. Makes me remember why I don't do it a lot. Not to mention, Roxy here was throwing herself at Niall. It was all he could do to keep her from jumping him. Fred saw some of it too. I reckon he's going to give Niall a reeming out."

"He can't control everything I do. He's a prat for thinking being my older brother gives him veto power over who I want to hook-up with," Roxanne interjected furiously, brandishing her fork in a dangerous manner. Al leaned away from her, eying the silver utensil warily.

"Relax, would you?" he advised.

"Yeah, take it down a notch. It's much to early for that," Dom interrupted, sliding into the seat next to Rose. She was wearing holey jeans and a cropped black shirt, a pair of round black sunglasses over her eyes. "My brain can barely function."

"Can it remember what it's owner did last night?" Roxanne inquired, resisting the urge to giggle. "Say, climb up on a table and dance before going up to the seventh year boys' dormitory with Lor—"

"Shut it, Roxy. And yes, I remember. Bits and pieces at least," Dom added begrudgingly as an afterthought."

"You shagged?" Rose inquired, raising her eyebrows, looking a bit concerned.

"Who shagged?" A newcomer cut in, sounding decidedly awake as he sat down next to Al, before reaching across to help himself to a taste of Rose's nearly untouched porridge. It was, of course, Scorpius Malfoy. He completed the quartet of best friends, between Rose, Roxanne, Al and himself. Despite the past between the Potters and the Malfoys, their sons had been best friends since first year. He was blond, tall and a bit lanky, holding a strong resemblance to Draco; the exception being his blue eyes and wide smile that he'd gotten from his mother. "Tell me it wasn't you Rosie. Because if it was, I'd be in considerable debt, and I think Al and I would need to get ahold of him and beat his face in."

"No," Rose snapped quickly, before she widened her eyes. "Wait, you bet on me sleeping with a boy?"

Scorpius waved his hand through the air dismissively. "Doesn't matter. So if not our innocent Rosie, it's got to be Dom in question. I know Al probably woke up naked next to some hot girl, since he always does, and Fred would kill any guy that got with Roxanne, so it's obviously not them."

"I was clothed, thanks," Al corrected, rolling his eyes at his friend.

"The Devil's in the details," Scorpius tutted, laughing.

"Malfoy, I will not hesitate to jinx you if you don't shut up," Dom told him sharply, flicking a stray piece of egg at the blond boy. She turned to Al. "How is it that you're so chipper, Al?"

He shrugged, resisting the smug expression that threatened to creep onto his face. He'd thought he'd done a good job, but apparently, Dom had caught the twitch his mouth had given.

"You prat, you've got some hangover cure, haven't you?" She didn't wait for his reply. "Aunt Ginny won't be pleased when she realizes it's gone. Godric, Al, be a doll and give me a teaspoon of it, won't you? Pretty please?"

"I think I should save it, thanks," he shrugged. "You know, it does come in handy."

Dom peered at him over her sunglasses and glowered. Al just smiled smugly in response before standing up.

"Well, I have an essay to finish," Rose groaned, standing up to leave.

"Crap," Roxanne groaned. "I have to finish that too. And then I have those questions for Potions…" she trailed off, letting her head hit the table.

"This is why I don't do parties," Rose reminded her as she strolled out of the Great Hall, her auburn braid swinging behind her.

"I'd say I'd join you, Roxy, but I already finished that essay Friday night before tryouts," Al said, nudging Roxanne to get up and follow Rose. "Rose will probably proofread the paper if you hurry."

Roxanne gritted her teeth and slouched after her cousin reluctantly, looking like she'd rather dip her hands in undiluted bubotuber pus than write her Charms essay.

"Well, boys, it's been lovely, but I daresay I have things to attend to," Dom told them briskly, readjusting her shades and raking her fingers through her strawberry blond hair. She tossed them one last signature smile and strutted over to the table that some other seventh years had occupied. Al didn't fail to notice Scorpius's eyes follow his cousin.

"Stop drooling, please, it's going to make me sick, mate," he said, and Scorpius looked away, sloshing his pumpkin juice.

"Huh?—oh, sorry. You've got to admit that Dom is definitely one of the fittest girls in her year. And her ass—"

Al held up his hand to silence his best friend. "I don't wanna know the end of that sentence. And yeah, Dom's pretty, but _she's my cousin_. So, if you're planning on ogling her, don't tell me." He sighed a little, but Scorpius knew he wasn't really mad. If he was, practically the entire male population of the school would've been hexed at least once.

"Don't worry, she doesn't go I'm bored, mate. If you don't have any coursework, how do you reckon we spend this fine afternoon?" Scorpius asked lazily, glancing up at the blue sky.

"Well, we could go to the lake. Girls will be out there. Or…." Al trailed off, grinning. "Fancy a trip to Hogsmeade?"

His best friend's face split into a smile to mirror his own.

"Perfect."

The sky outside was beginning to darken as dusk fell. Fred was out with Jane Wilson, doing Godric-knows-what, and James was getting tired of perusing the Maurader's Map aimlessly. His dormmates were scrambling to do last minute homework, or cram in studying in the library.

He glanced out the window. It was a pleasant fall evening, if a little chilly. He could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance, still bathed in the last rays of sunlight. Hastily wiping the map clear and folding it, he stowed it in his pocket with his wand, grabbed his broomstick and left the deserted dormitory behind.

Many students found the castle to be slightly eerie at night, especially the first and second years, who were still newer to the school. But James had always liked it; it seemed to be the hour when all the fun commenced. After all, it was the ideal time to engineer most pranks. He strolled through the corridors with a practiced ease that came with having attended Hogwarts for six years prior. Navigating it was second nature to him now.

He stepped onto the manicured green grass of the pitch five minutes later, inhaling the cool, fresh air of the Scottish countryside. It filled his lungs easily, and he squinted against the sunset. Mounting his broom, a Firebolt (gift from his parents last year, when he received the captainship), he kicked off the hard ground and shot into the air easily, wind rushing past his face and ruffling his hair.

It took seconds for him to realize that he wasn't along. There was a small, lithe figure at the other end, silhouetted against the sky, circling the goal hoops, maneuvering complicated loops and feints. James urged his broom forward gently, but he stopped when he was within about a hundred feet. The figure crouched over a broomstick had long, dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few stray pieces framing the girl's face.

Anna Wood. Of course.

James paused to watch as she chucked the Quaffle and dove after it, snatching it a few feet from the ground and spiraling upward skillfully. There was something graceful about her, in the fierce quickness with which she moved, as if she was born to flu. Which, if you looked at her parentage, was a given. She was born into a professional Quidditch dynasty; with Wood and Bell blood in her veins.

"Fancy seeing you here, Potter," she called, and he blinked, surprised. He handn't realized she'd known he was there. Before he could reply, she chucked the Quaffle at him, full force, and he caught it; barely. It slammed against his chest as his fingers grasped it, the red leather familiar beneath his hands.

"I could say the same to you, Wood," he replied. They were both Chasers in their final year at school, and the unsaid competition between them was as high as ever. For years, they had gone head to head; who could score more points; who made the best passes; who could take a hard hit and not drop the Quaffle. At the start of sixth year, it had been who would get the Captainship. It had turned out to be James. And there was a part of him, deep down beneath the seemingly indestructible ego that came with being effortlessly popular, that hoped it wasn't just because he was a Potter that he had been chosen to lead the team. Because he knew Anna had been a worthy candidate for the badge too. He also knew that she was mad she hadn't gotten it, even though she refused to say it out loud.

He passed it back to her, and she caught it easily, tucking it under her arm as she brushed her hair back from her face. "Weak pass," she informed him, cocking her head to one side.

"I'm not trying to kill my teammate, Wood," he answered smoothly. "I can't say the same for all of us," he added, the corner of his mouth threatening to twitch into the famous James Potter smirk.

"Yeah, I'm definitely thinking of taking you out with a hollow leather ball," she retorted, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. James could've sworn he saw her roll her eyes.

"You were practicing?" he asked, deciding against falling into their usual banter as he received her pass. This one was considerably gentler, not as much spiral on it.

"Yeah. What were you doing out here? Not practicing, surely. That's only for the amateurs." The next pass James threw at her was harder. She was infuriating, in the way she didn't even need to think to formulate her sharp replies; they just rolled off her tongue naturally.

"Oooh, angry now are we?" She teased, throwing her head back and laughing as she passed it back. James felt a jolt in his stomach that had nothing to do with the ferocity of the pass. There was something about the way the setting sun seemed to light her hair on fire, turning the dark locks a burnished sort of gold, and shadowing her face. The thing that stood out most was her smoldering gaze that bored deep into him with a casual sort of dismissal.

"You think you can bait me that easily, Wood? And here I was thinking you were the queen of comebacks," he said, shaking his head as he sat back on his broom. They gazed at each other for a few moments, before her face split into the snarky expression reserved just for him.

"Please Potter. The only one who thinks of himself as royalty is you." She gave him one last intense look and sped towards the ground, landing easily. She tucked the broom under her arm and stalked off the field, disappearing into the castle.

James watched her go, before slowly drifting to the ground. For him, the pitch was either a battlefield or a place of complete solace. And now, as he stood alone, he couldn't place which one it was this time.

**Third chapter down! I hope you liked it! I've given you a glimpse of Albus's character, and you've finally seen Scorpius. I'm trying to decide who's going to fall for one another first; if it's Rose who likes him, or he likes her… That's still up for grabs and if you have any opinions on it, include them in your review! But anyway I kind of pictured Albus as an unintentional man-whore. There's also some one on one interaction with James and Anna. I'm in no rush to establish a real relationship between them, but as you can see there's sexual tension. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and please review. Love you all!**

**-xoxoNotsoSugarQueen**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N.: Fourth chapter is here… There's not really loads to say, so I'm not going to waste time typing a long, drawn out note that means nothing, haha. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, ownership of HP belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**Four: To Date or Not To Date?**

"Lily!" a voice called as she descended a staircase towards the Charms classroom. She was running a bit late, and her bag was leaden with textbooks, a quill tucked behind her ear and her ruby red hair pulled up on a sloppy ponytail. Needless to say, of all moments to be approached by Owen Carmichael, this wasn't the one she would have preferred.

"Carmichael," she greeted, pausing to turn around. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied. "How are you?"

Lily blinked, a little struck by the normalcy of the question—but what had she been expecting, exactly? A declaration of adoration? A handwritten sonnet? "I'm good. A little, late, but good. You?" she laughed nervously, smiling a little. As he stood on the stair above her, his book bag slung over his bag, she couldn't help but notice that the blue on his tie brought out his eyes.

"Great, thanks," he answered, returning her smile with a more confident, boyish version. "I was wondering if you had any plans for the Hogsmeade visit, the one on the first of October?"

"Uh," her brain raced, recalling the post announcing the first trip of the year that had been posted on the bulletin board in the common room. She usually went with Louis and Hugo, but this was a whole different year. They were older now. They'd understand if she went with Owen, right? Besides, she doubted they'd have any problems finding girls to go with, if it really bothered them. "No, actually, no plans yet."

Owen grinned brighter. "Well, since you're free, I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?"

Lily's heart stuttered a little in her chest, and what was most likely a dopey smile lit up her face. "Sure. I'd love to, in fact," she managed, doing her best to sound nonchalant. Inside, she was squealing. She couldn't wait to tell Hugo and Louis. She'd have to ask Dom about what to wear…

The staircase jerked sideways, pitching herself ungracefully forward into Owen's chest. _He smells like chocolate and boy_, she thought absentmindedly, before recollecting herself and regaining her balance.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, feeling her face get warm with what she knew was a blush.

"Falling for me already, L?" he teased, his caramel hair falling in front of his eyes, and he brushed it away with confident ease.

She readjusted her bag on her shoulder, and cocked her hip, looking him straight in his oceanic blue eyes. With a flirtatious smile she didn't even know she possessed; "You wish, O," she called out as she dashed down the stairs. If she was fast, she'd make it to Charms on time.

But honestly, she couldn't have cared less. Owen Carmichael had just asked her out, and she would miss every Charms class for the rest of the year for that.

Contrary to most girls, Rose liked to study in the library. It was quieter than the common room, and there was a certain calm that came with the carefully analyzed notes and memorization that eased her mind.

Usually, she studied alone. But today, Al and Scorpius had decided that instead of pursuing their usual set of leisure activities (pulling a prank on the prefects, playing a game of pick-up Quidditch, snogging girls, etc.), they should take a leaf out of Rose's book. It was after all, their O.W.L. year. Homework bore resemblance to small mountains when piled on their desks, and the essays were twice as long as last year's.

"Will you two stop admiring that girl's arse and concentrate?" Rose fumed, looking up from her Transfiguration textbook. Professor Welkes had assigned them a paper on the theory of Vanishing Spells. Rose was seated across the table from her two best friends, and the glare she gave them rivaled that of a basilisk.

"You have to admit, Rose, it's worthy of admiration," Al sighed, rolling his eyes and sitting up.

"Sorry, but I don't think so," she snapped. "I'm trying to get work done, and you're distracting me."

"Come on, Rosie, don't be jealous now. It's the ugliest trait…" Scorpius teased, his gray eyes dancing. Rose flicked her wand and his book smacked him gingerly.

"Hey!" he protested, snatching it out of the air. "Females. No need to be so violent. Except of course, when engaged in other activities…" his lips curled into a smug smile.

They both laughed at her exasperated sigh as she held up her hand, signaling them to stop that trail of conversation in its tracks. "Bloody nuisances, both of you," she told them firmly.

"Rose, you can't spend all your time studying. Besides the occasional party, you have to do something besides read and review," Al lectured. "It'd be a shame. A waste of youth. Dom claims you need to have more fun, and I reckon she's right. Dunno how you don't, seeing as to the fact that you're friends with us. I'm sure Roxy would be all for it if you let loose a bit more."

"Roxy can let loose all on her own, I think," Scorpius pointed out. "She's not here, now, is she?"

"No. She's sleeping. She pulled an all nighter last night because she left her Divination homework to the last minute," Rose informed them, smiling wryly. She rolled up her finished essay and sealed it carefully. "Notice how I'm not sleeping. Because I finish things on time, Scorp."

Scorpius shook his head. "Nah, Rosie, we get all our work done in time and we still have fun. It's not going to kill you to get an E every once in awhile."

"Speaking of being on time, Merlin, I'm late," Al swore, checking his watch. "I've gotta go. I was supposed to meet Isobel in the Great Hall… now." He stood up quickly, grabbed his bag, giving them a hurried goodbye as he hustled away.

"If he's going to be such a girl magnet, he could be tactful about it," Rose snorted. "And if it's Isobel Hawkins, she'll be either in tears or roaring mad when he gets there."

"The danger of young love," Scorpius preached dramatically, before joining her in laughter. "Even our little Lily Luna has a date, or so I hear. Al's not to pleased about it. He's in our year. Owen Carmichael. I reckon that's what really bothers Al. Was all I could do to keep him from cursing him in Herbology earlier. Speaking of love, what's up with you, Rosie? A date to Hogsmeade yet?"

Rose gave him a look. "Actually, yes. Not that it matters. I don't fancy him or anything."

Across the table, his interest piqued, and he leaned forward, cocking his head to one side. "Who's this bloke, exactly?"

"You're not going to hex him or jinx him or hurt him," Rose ordered, ignoring his intense stare. "It's just Kevin. We've had lots of patrols together, since we're both prefects, you know… so he asked me out two nights ago. He's fit, but I'm not sure it will turn into anything yet."

"Kevin Bones you mean?" His demeanor had changed; something in his voice made Rose glance up from her Astronomy charts. Was it a trick of the light, or did he look a bit paler than usual? No, it was just her imagination. _He wouldn't have any reason, unless he was ill_, Rose thought to herself dismissively.

"Yeah, Kevin Bones. The only prefect named Kevin." Rose had returned to looking to her charts. Unbeknownst to her, her blond best friend was clutching his quill tightly, his lips pursed. The gray of his eyes had darkened from their early brilliance, and he seemed to be deep in thought.

"Thanks for the homework tips, Rosie, but I ought to be going. It's getting late," he finally said, a few moments later. He scooped up his books in one swift motion and was gone. Rose, confused at his sudden departure checked her watch. It was only seven forty-five. Not late by anyone's—especially Scorp's—standards. Certainly not close to curfew, not that that would have bothered him. She wondered briefly if, like Al, he had a girl to meet somewhere.

At least, she could work in peace now. So long as he wasn't off to injure an innocent Kevin Bones, she didn't really mind. Thirty minutes later, she'd finished her chart, and tucked it away in her bag. Standing up, she started to gather her things, before she noticed that Scorpius had left his quill. It was his favorite one too; the eagle feather she'd given him as part of his birthday present last year. She picked it up, said goodbye to the ancient Madam Pince, and headed towards the dungeons. Or more specifically, the Slytherin House.

She'd been to Scorpius's common room before, for parties and occasionally studying, but never alone. The dungeons were cold, and she hugged herself as she headed past the Potions classroom towards the entrance.

"Excuse me?" Slughorn peered out from his portrait. "Looking for your friend, I presume?" His jovial, walrus mustache and general nature contrasted sharply with the skulls that made up the rest of the wall around him. In the dim light, they seemed to grin at her eerily.

Rose smiled half-heartedly and nodded. "Yeah. Could you let me in? Please? He forgot his quill in the library, I just wanted to give it to him. It's his favorite, you see, and we don't have a lesson together until right before lunch—"

Slughorn waved his hand, silencing her as his portrait swung open.

She stepped forward cautiously, feeling uncomfortable. "Hey, is Scorpius here?" she asked. Some of the Slytherins lounging around looked over.

"Yeah, up in his dormitory. Want me to get him for you, or you know the way?" a girl named Caroline Zabini offered.

"Uh, sure, that would be great," Rose agreed, stepping awkwardly over the threshold and waiting as Caroline hurried down the corridor that led to the assortment of Slytherin boys' dormitories. Rose knew which dorm Scorpius was in, but it felt weird going there on her own.

Caroline returned, but Scorpius wasn't with her. "Sorry. He's sleeping," she apologized, biting her lip.

"Oh. That's fine, I'll just see him tomorrow then," Rose said, shrugging. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," Caroline told her, smiling a bit. Rose waved goodbye and shut the portrait door behind her. It wasn't entirely impossible that Scorp was asleep, but it was definitely strange. Sighing tiredly, Rose pushed it to the back of her mind. If there was something wrong, he'd tell her and Al. He always did.

**Ahhhh, Scorose! The cuteness of unrequited love. Or at least, unrealized unrequited love. Do you think I should do Scorpius's perspective in one of the next chapters? Anyway, Rose is being a blind idiot, and I hope you don't mind. it might last a few chapters, for the sake of the plot. I'm planning on doing Dominique's point of view soon, and believe me, I have a lot in store for her character. I'll probably touch base with James in that same chapter. And I'm trying to construct some sort of character development/challenge/romantic situation for Al… got any ideas? Please review, and thank you so much for reading. And if you're waiting for my ****Roadtrip!**** update, I apologize for the wait. I'm trying to pull the next chapter, and I promise there's Percabeth and fluffiness to give you the requested fix. But I'm not oozing inspiration for that story right now, and I hate forcing myself to write, because I always hate those chapters. Thank you so much for reading! Love you all!**

**-xoxo, NotsoSugarQueen**


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.: This is going to be the first chapter featuring Dom's perspective. Perhaps you'll see why she's so badass, as a person… And you get a better picture and description of Lorcan and Lysander as well.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, and that includes HP**

**Five: Vices and Victories**

The parchment had lost the smell of Shell Cottage, its surface crinkled beneath Dom's fingertips. She clutched it in one hand, like a lifeline, as she stood in front of the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. She knew the right thing to do would be to bite the bullet, shove the contents of that letter down inside herself and go take her seat next to Anna, but Dominique Weasley had never been one for the right thing.

Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowd of students making their way to their next class. Gryffindor common room was nearly deserted, save for a handful of sixth years who were taking advantage of their free period. She stalked past them and up to the seventh year girls' dorm. Dropping her bag onto her bed, she lifted up her mattress to grab the one thing she had come for. Hidden in the box of her bed, along with her secret stash of Honeydukes chocolate and a whole bottle of firewhiskey, was a full pack of Marlboro Lights. Smoking was her vice, but Godric, she needed a cigarette right now. Her hands trembled as she grabbed one from the pack, tucked it in the waistline of her skirt and dashed downstairs once more. The sixth years barely had time to register her passing before she was gone. For that, she was grateful. She loved being Dom Weasley, but she loved escaping even more.

The Astronomy Tower was her favorite place. The sky outside was gray and thick with clouds. Rain was spitting down in intervals, and the stone was damp with the autumn chill in the air. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, and she lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

"Fuck," she whispered, tilting her head back and blowing smoke into the sky. Holding the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, she smoothed the letter out once more, her eyes scanning it. Her mother's handwriting was as elegant and neat as ever; Dom wondered briefly if it was a French thing.

It seemed as though she was that regrettable middle child once more, the embarrassment of the bunch. She knew her parents would never, ever say it that way, but Dom knew that she was unconventional. Louis was still at that perfect, cherubic point when their parents were completely convinced he could do no wrong. And Victoire, of course, was pursuing her career as a Healer, after finishing up at Hogwarts with near top marks and in general, radiating perfection.

And now she was engaged to Teddy.

Dom took another drag and the breath shuddered out of her, rattling her lungs. It didn't come as a surprise, really. As children, her older sister and Teddy Lupin had been nearly inseparable, and when they'd started dating in Victoire's sixth year, it was almost a given. There had been a time when Victoire had been Dom's idol, but that was a forgotten dream, one she had given up on long ago. Their relationship had crumbled at Hogwarts when Victoire had dated a boy Dom liked, purposefully, all because Dom had used some of her red nail polish. And through every dispute, Teddy had always sided with Victoire, even when it was obvious that the elder sister was the one at fault.

"Fuck," Dom said again, not bothering to make it quiet. She kicked at the ground, her boots scuffing the stone.

"Dominique?" the familiar voice made Dom pause. She exhaled furiously.

"Lorcan," she answered, forcing her voice to be calm and collected.

"Yes," he said said, walking over to stand beside her. Through the cold, she could feel the heat emanating off his body. She had known the Scamander twins her whole life. All through their years at school together, they had remained as close as ever. It was almost as if the three of them were the more complex, difficult version of Victoire and Teddy. In the summer before fifth year, drunk, she had lost her virginity to Lorcan. In times like these, when her life felt like it was spiraling dangerously away from her, he was her second vice. First came the smoking, then came the sex.

And now, standing there in the mist and light drizzle, she blew smoke into the sky again.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. She shook her head and closed her eyes to the rain, the cold rain hitting her face.

"My sister is getting married," she answered emotionlessly. "The wedding is going to be over the holidays, I think. Promise me you won't let me fuck anything up? My parents would never forgive me for messing up Vic's dream day."

"Promise," he echoed. His hands, calloused and familiar, pulled her towards him. Her face nuzzled into his chest; he smelled like pine and soap. In seconds, Dom discarded her cigarette, stomping out its fire beneath her foot. Trading one vice for another, her lips found his, and he could taste the smoke on her.

Al didn't think he had ever played Quidditch in worse weather. It was pouring out, as if the sky had cracked open, rain falling in thick sheets. The pitch was practically a swamp, and their boots made squelching noises as the Gryffindor team stomped out onto the field, brooms firmly in hand.

James motioned for them to huddle closer. "Look, I know the weather is shite, but we're Gryffindors. They don't call us brave for nothing, you hear? And this is no excuse for us to back down. We're going to _flatten_ Hufflepuff if it's the last thing we do, alright?" Even through the background noise of the storm, James' voice rang loud and clear with determination. "All I'm going to say is, Chasers work together, Beaters, well, beat, Niall defend the hoops like your life depends on it, and Al, catch the bloody snitch."

"Amen," Fred echoed coolly. The team shared a brisk nod before they turned to face the opposing team. Hufflepuff was clad in their yellow and black uniforms, looking as equally perplexed about the playing conditions. James shook hands with Yvonne Goldstein, and with a blare of a whistle, they were off.

Al shot into the air, flying high above his teammates, to keep a close eye on the game and get a good view of the pitch. The golden snitch, unsurprisingly, was nowhere to be seen at the moment.

The game started off well enough. Their newest Chaser, a third year girl named Winnie Bower, was in possession, and after dodging a bludger, neatly passed it to James, who caught it and without further ado, buried it into one of the hoops. This resulted in a great deal of screaming from the scarlet and gold end of the stadium, leaving the Hufflepuff fans disgruntled. Two more goals were scored, courtesy of Anna, and then it went wrong.

James' pass to Winnie was intercepted by the Hufflepuff Chaser, Esther Cadwaller, who zipped up the pitch towards Niall. Fred sent a bludger speeding towards her; which she dodged, but fumbled and dropped the Quaffle, which in turn was snatched up by her teammate Ivan Wilkes.

"Hufflepuff makes a fantastic shot—Wilkes scores! 30-10 Gryffindor!" Roxanne called through the microphone. "Wood has the Quaffle—solid pass to Potter, who hands it off to Bower, who's going for the net. Keeper Goldstein at the ready—ooooh that's going to leave a mark!"

Al winced; Winnie took a bludger to the shoulder, and was sent reeling. Understandably, loosing the Quaffle to the other team. Al clenched his broomstick tightly, his fingers slippery from the rain. He clenched his teeth, scanning the stadium for the tell tale flicker of gold…

"30-20, Gryffindor!" Roxanne announced, her tone sour. It was clear she didn't find Hufflepuff's goals funny. "Watch your backs, reds!"

The Gryffindors in the stands roared in encouragement, and Al managed a smile. Within moments, Anna made another goal, narrowly avoiding a Hufflepuff Beater in the process.

The rain was really starting to come down now, and the sky overhead had darkened even more, if that was possible. He eyed Allie Trenton, who was circling the field a hundred or so yards away. He suspected she wanted to catch the Snitch and have the game over with just as much as he did. No one could be enjoying this.

Hufflepuff scored twice more, and Al could see Niall getting agitated with himself. "Shit," Al muttered. James flew back towards the Gryffindor hoops to say something to one of his best mates, and Al's older brother clapped Niall reassuringly on the back before zooming back towards his fellow Chasers.

Winnie sunk a spectacular goal with her left arm, an impressive feat seeing as that she was clearly nursing her other shoulder. With only a ten point lead, the scarlet team was rallying. They had underestimated Hufflepuff's team, and that had been their mistake.

Anna passed the Quaffle off to James after stealing it from a yellow Chaser and James hurled it past Yvonne Goldstein. The Keeper's gloves grazed it, but it wasn't enough to save it. The narrow lead increased by a fraction, and Al's muscles relaxed slightly.

"Yes," he grinned, fist pumping the air. And then, out of the corner of his eye, there was a glimmer of gold beside Anna's knee, flitting downwards towards the muddy pitch. Not daring to check if Allie had seen it as well, he dived. The air whipped through his robes. He could feel his blood roaring in his ears, the rush of adrenaline flush through his body that created a buzz he only got from flying. Looping under Anna, his fingers clasped the cold, gold metal sphere. The delicate silver wings ceased to struggle, and he shot back up into the air, holding it up for the stadium to see.

"Al Potter has got the Snitch! 150 points to Gryffindor! The match goes to the lions, ladies and gentlemen!" Roxanne squealed into the microphone excitedly. "Final score: 210 to 40!"

Their house stampeded onto the field as the seven players landed and hugged one another tightly.

"Saved us the match there," Anna told him, her voice strained. It was clear she was still upset with the team's performance, even though they had pulled off the win.

"Thanks little bro," James hugged him tightly, clapping his back. "Shite, mate, they got some new players… now we have to prep ourselves for Slytherin." He then moved on to check if Winnie's shoulder, leaving Al at the mercy of several fourth year girls who were wasting no time in being extremely complimentary.

"Everyone, party in the common room!" Fred shouted at the sea of supporters, who cheered in response. Al smiled, tucked the Snitch in his pocket, and let himself get lifted up on the shoulders of his housemates. Despite being soaked to the skin, Quidditch always had its benefits. At the moment, he decided, he could use some firewhiskey and a hot girl.

**I'm sorry for the lack luster bit in this chapter, I'm suffering from some real writer's block. I have these ideas I want to fit into the plotline, but I need to develop the story a bit more before working them in. I discovered, however, that I HATE writing Quidditch scenes, and I apologize if that one was terrible. It was awful writing it, I tell you. I hope you like Dom's perspective, and there will be a love triangle in her life soon enough… you just wait hehe. I was thinking about doing a bit of James and Anna here, but I'm saving it for the next chapter instead. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, please review! Thanks so much for reading! Love you all!**

**Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen**


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N.: So I've been super busy lately, and writing has not been on the forefront of my mind, what with school and ballet and rehearsals… Updates aren't going to be a very frequent thing. And for my PJO fanfictions, I have not gotten my hands on Blood of Olympus yet, so I'm holding off updating until I read it so I can suck some inspiration from that, yeah? But like I said, I've been busy, so I haven't had loads of time to read. Which sucks. Anyway, enjoy this update!**

**Disclaimer: I don't have ownership of the HP characters or story.**

**Six: What Happens in the Girls' Dormitory, Stays in the Girls' Dormitory**

Roxanne took one last glance in the mirror, twirling one of her little braids around her finger. Her mocha skin flickered in the candlelight of her dorm, and she knew she looked hot in her short maroon sweater dress; it hugged her hourglass figure expertly, and she pursed her glossed lips experimentally. Yes. She was as good as gold.

"Rosie!" She sang, poking her head into the bathroom. Her redheaded cousin was curling her eyelashes in front of the mirror absentmindedly, humming the school song. Instructed by Roxanne, Rose was dressed in a jean skirt shorter than anything she would've normally selected, with a white button up, sleeves rolled and collar buttons undone. Her lips were cherry red, and Roxanne silently congratulated herself on the make-up job. Dom really did know her stuff, and for her advice Roxanne was grateful. However, instead of the strappy black heels she'd lent Rose, her cousin had opted for her beat up brown leather boots.

As if reading her mind, Rose raised her hands in protest. "I could barely walk in them, Roxy. And if you expect me to dance with you, I have to be able to keep my balance."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Rosie," Roxanne sighed, a smile giving her away. She wasn't really all that angry. It really was an accomplishment that Rose was coming in the first place—Roxanne knew she'd much rather curl up in her bed and read up on their next Transfiguration lesson.

"Teeth brushed?" she asked, and Rose nodded, rolling her eyes. "Then let's go!" She grabbed Rose's hand and tugged her out the door and down the stairs.

It was nearing six thirty, and the music from the enchanted record player thrummed, the ancient stone walls absorbing the beat. Roxanne could feel it in her bones, and her skin itched to get out on the floor and dance. She scanned the room; her eyes raking past the boys in her year—besides Al and Scorpius, she found them to mostly be boring and mundane. Al and Scorp were not boyfriend material, having been best friends with them since first year, not to mention Al was her cousin. Older boys, however, were what Roxanne was looking for. That is, if she could ever find one willing to risk getting his teeth knocked out by her older brother.

Rose was uncomfortable, tensing up, wincing at the loud music. Roxanne knew it had been too much to hope that Rose would be just as fun as she had been at the last Gryffindor rager; she was still having trouble believing that her straight and narrow cousin had gotten smashed in the first place, never mind danced wildly through the night.

Her eyes found the cluster of seventh year boys; and her brother caught sight of her. Fred turned to say something to James before beginning to make his way towards his little sister. "Shit," she muttered, tugging Rose in the direction of the drinks.

"Roxy, I really don't want any," Rose protested, but Roxanne silenced her with a look.

"Just let me get drunk. I'm not going to make it through this party otherwise," Roxanne told her firmly. "I don't understand why Fred is so determined that I never get a boyfriend. I can take care of myself. He's deliberately ruining my life." She poured herself a shot and threw it back. "Sure you don't want one?"

Rose raised her eyebrows. "No. I have a feeling I should be sober, to keep you from doing a drunk striptease."

"That was one time! It was my first time getting drunk!" Roxanne brushed away the jab, gulping down another one. The buzz was starting to make its way into her system, giving her a newfound confidence.

"Alright, I'm good." She tossed her hair back, and ducked behind a gaggle of sixth year girls who were laughing obnoxiously loudly, a handful of them belonging to Ravenclaw or Slytherin. The two nabbed a seat on the couches where Al was lounging with Kevin Bones. Al was calmly sipping on a bottle of who knows what, relaxed and carefree in his broken in jeans and forest green shirt, and Kevin was unsurprisingly, drink free.

"Hey, Roxy," Al greeted, as she slouched into the seat next to him. Rose took the space beside Kevin, flashing him a sweet smile.

"Al," she replied, her gaze not failing to track Fred's watchful movements.

"Avoiding the overbearing brother, are we?" Al snorted, taking a sip of his drink and grinning smugly.

"How did you guess?" It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in her voice, it dripped from her words. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't get it, Al. Why does he have to be such a buzz kill? It's not like I want to shag his friends! I just want to be a normal girl, who can have her pick of blokes."

"Roxy, you have to understand that he doesn't want you to end up hurt is all. James and I feel the same way about Lily. My sister is in fourth year and has got guys all over her, and I don't trust a single one of them. I'm a bloody fifth year, I get what blokes are about."

Roxanne let out an exasperated sigh. "Brothers. So overbearing. All this talk is hurting my head. So, excuse me while I go dance." She stood, smoothed out her dress and stalked towards the floor. She snapped her fingers, and the music volume went up. She twirled, swinging her hips from side to sigh. She feel eyes on her, and she smirked to herself. She joined in with the other girls, hands stretched towards the ceiling. She glanced over at Fred; he was snogging one of the giggling sixth year girls in the corner. Good. As long as he was occupied, she was free of his watchful eye. "Hey, I need a drink," she remarked, and promptly took a glass from a nearby guy and drained it. "Thanks, mate," she added, before looking him over. He was cute, she supposed. "Want to dance?" she asked playfully, laughing slightly.

"Sure," he replied, returning her smile and letting her lead him onto the floor. His hands were on her hips and his body was pressed against hers and her mind couldn't form a coherent thought. She was off on a high that accompanied dancing and drinking and partying.

When the third song ended, she spun away from the boy, winking before weaving her way through the crowd. Al had abandoned his seat on the couch, and he was currently dancing with one of the many girls surrounding him. James was grinding with Trinity West, and the rest of her brothers friends were scattered throughout the party in similar situations. She spotted Scorpius on the couch, although when he had arrived she didn't know. Judging from his demeanor, he was sulking, drinking excessively from a glass full of who knew what.

"Scorp," she called, managing to keep her balance in her heels as she tottered over. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he snapped, taking another gulp.

"Want to share?" she asked, holding out her hand. He looked at her for a moment before relenting and handing her the glass. She sipped; gillywater mixed with something stronger.

"Merlin, you really want to get wasted," she spluttered.

"Damn right," he replied emotionlessly.

"Look, I'm to drunk for a serious conversation, so I'm going to give you some bad advice. Get up and go have fun, shag a girl or something. Not like they wouldn't be all over you. I mean, I'd offer, but that would be weird," she giggled, nudging him.

"Roxy, how much have you had?" he asked, concern leaking into his voice.

She shrugged. "That's beside the point. This is a party, so get your arse off the couch and go find a girl."

"The only girl I want is taken," he muttered, but Roxanne didn't hear him. She had been truthful when she'd told him she was too far gone to have a serious conversation. Perhaps if she hadn't had that last firewhiskey, she would've noticed his eyes flicking towards Rose, who was dancing with a gentlemanly Kevin Bones, and laughing when he said something that she undoubtedly found very funny. But if Roxanne had been sober, Scorpius would've done a better job at hiding it.

"You're right," he told her, standing up. Roxanne grinned at him.

"Exactly. Go get a bird, mate. See you in the morning!" She slapped him playfully in the shoulder and made her way back to the dance floor.

"Roxy!" Dom appeared, flushed. Her hair was mussed, her lips wine red and clearly recently kissed. Somewhere along the way she had lost her shirt, because all she was wearing was a lacy red bra and skin tight jeans. "Dance with me!" Roxanne watched as her cousin climbed up onto one of the tables and shimmied throwing her head back. Pausing only for a second, she kicked off her heels and didn't hesitate to clamber up beside her.

She fell into the beat, twirling and swiveling. Dom was beside her. "Who knew Roxy was such a party animal?" she cried, hip bumping her. Roxanne laughed with mirth, tossing her hair.

"Roxanne," a voice called from below. She ignored it, continuing to dance.

"Roxanne, get down," it repeated. She turned, the voice belonged to a sandy haired boy with a name she couldn't recall. He was awfully cute though. Godric, those eyes were so blue and deep… her lips broke into a smirk.

"No, I don't think I will," she flirted, casting a coy smile his way.

"Dom, what the hell have you done? Are you thinking straight?" the boy asked, raking his hand through his hair, ruffling it. Something Roxanne found unbearable attractive.

"It's just fun, Finnegan," Dom scoffed. "Relax."

He muttered something Roxanne couldn't make out, but it didn't matter. "I'll come down if you agree to do me a favor," she offered.

"Roxanne, just get down. Please?" he asked.

"I will if you promise to do me a favor," she repeated teasingly, rotating her hips and pursing her lips.

Finne-whatever-Dom-had-called-him hesitated for a moment. "Fine, I promise to do you a favor," he agreed reluctantly. "Just get down before you fall and hurt yourself."

"Alright, catch me!" she said, tipping gracefully off the table and right into his shocked arms.

"Merlin's beard, Roxanne," he swore colorfully. "Warn me next time, will you? Now, lets get you to your dorm. Where's Rose, she can take you there."

"No, I'm not going to my dormitory, I don't want to go to sleep," Roxanne pouted. "You still owe me something anyways. You agreed to my terms… don't tell me you'd break a promise."

His chest hitched with an exasperated sigh, but Roxanne ignored it. "Okay, what do you want?"

Roxanne smiled, placing her hands on his shoulders, letting one of them crawl up to cup the back of his neck. She rose up on tip-toes to whisper in his ear.

"Kiss me," she demanded. She could feel his heartbeat in his chest, it raced against her fingertips, resounding through his skin and blue Oxford shirt.

"Roxanne," he warned, his voice sounding strained.

"You promised," she said firmly, meeting his blue gaze with a blazing brown one of her own that was all defiance.

"One kiss," he clarified, swallowing. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Just one," she nodded.

He inhaled sharply, and suddenly his lips were on hers and any ability to think evaporated from Roxanne's mind; her body was on fire, her nerve endings extra sensitive. She wanted more than this one kiss, and he could tell. If she was right, he did too, whoever he was. Her fingers gripped his collar and a growl rumbled in his chest. He broke away, millimeters of space lingering between their lips.

"Roxanne," he warned. "That was one kiss. Go to your dormitory."

"You could kiss me again… or come with me," she invited, her voice whisper soft.

He kissed her again, and she knew his answer.

James broke away from Trinity. They'd been dancing for more than a few songs now, and he was getting bored. Although he'd done an excellent job of hiding it, guilt was ripping his insides apart. The match had been a close call, a slip-up on his part. They'd won largely due to Al's good timing and excellent Seeking skills. If he hadn't caught the Snitch then, who knew how long Gryffindor would have held on to that narrow lead? He was a shite Captain. It was luck that had won them the match. And it was only Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin were sure to be more challenging.

"I'll be right back," James told Trinity, not even caring that it was a blatant lie on his part. Half of him didn't even want to be at the party, because he knew he didn't really deserve it. He should be upstairs, poring over his playbook, devising new drills for the upcoming practices. And then there was the other part that wanted to drown out the match completely.

He nabbed a glass from the drink table and poured himself some mead. It was strong, but Godric he needed it. Glass in hand, he slipped out the door of the common room and into the hall.

It was well into the night, most likely nine or ten o'clock if he had to guess, and the only light in the corridors was the dim one emitting from the torches, and a splash of moonlight on the floors from the few windows. He slumped onto the stone windowsill and swished the contents of his glass around before sipping a little.

It was his fault. He'd ridden on their confidence in him, and the typical assumption that Hufflepuff wouldn't be too much of challenge. They should've crushed them, not just won. They would train harder, he would push his team to the limits. The Quidditch Cup was something he wanted nearly more than anything, and if he wanted a shot at playing professionally, he'd need to step it up.

"We could've lost today," Anna said, stepping out of the portrait hole. She wasn't dressed for the party, which James found surprising. Anna was Dom's best friend, and Dom was the living embodiment of a party. Instead of being done up in a slinky dress and heels, or sexy leather pants and bustier, Anna was wearing a worn, vintage Gryffindor Quidditch jersey that was obviously Katie Bell's from back in the day, and wool leggings, her chestnut hair loose around her shoulders.

James just took another swig in response.

"We're lucky your brother caught the Snitch," she said quietly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but James cut her off.

"Look, Wood, if you're out here to make a point, there's no need. We scraped a win, and I know it. We underestimated Hufflepuff, and if Al hadn't caught the Snitch when he had we easily could've lost. I'm under just as much pressure as you are to get the pros interested in me. I feel like shit right now, and there's no need for you to tear my Captain skills to shreds. You might as well take the fucking badge."

She looked at him, her face unreadable.

"You're a right arse, Potter. Not to mention you're drunk. And I'm an idiot, for thinking that talking to you was a good idea, because clearly you're not interested in what I have to say. To make it perfectly clear; I wasn't going to be a bitch and stomp all over your precious ego; even though at the moment I'd like to. Quit the woe-is-me act and man up. Don't drink your mistakes away. You have practice tomorrow. Something _you_ scheduled. Don't even think about showing up hungover or I will hex you." She stood up and yanked the glass from his hand, drained it, and tossed it against the wall. It shattered, broken shards littering the corridor.

James stared. There had always been a fine line between Anna and him, clarifying their existence and teammates, but competitors. In the moment, the line was blurred, and his brain struggled to string together words to convey the feeling that their existence as that had been broken as easily as the glass. But he couldn't. Instead, anger seeped into his brain.

"Just leave it, Wood. I don't want to talk to anyone right now, least of all you and your condescending speeches," he snapped.

"Condescending, am I? You can stuff it, Potter. Don't act like you don't lord over me on the pitch because you have the badge and I don't. And if you wanted me to fuck off, you should've just said so. Clearly I was wasting my time thinking we could have a civil conversation about Quidditch."

She turned on her heel and left, disappearing into the portrait hole. James raked his hands through his hair, before punching the wall. She was right, and she knew it, and it killed him inside. How was it that he felt as if he could never be the guy everyone wanted him to be? Perfect was so far away. Perfect was Anna fucking Wood. Not him.

He stared at his hands, the blood oozing across his knuckles, and wished that maybe they could've had a civil conversation.

"James?" Trinity's voice called out into the corridor. "James, you should come in. It's getting late…" she trailed off.

James stood, clearing his throat. "Yeah," he managed. "Coming."

Later, as they tangled in the sheets of his four poster bed, skin on skin, James couldn't help but feel as though it wasn't the same. Trinity wasn't something he wanted anymore. He wanted a real girl, with dark hair and eyes, but she may as well have been a phantom; foreign and far away and James couldn't understand any of the feelings raging in his mind. It was overdrive, and the only thing that shut down the mental war was kissing the blond in his arms.

Roxanne knew when she woke up that something was definitely wrong. At least, more wrong than her usual terrible hangover. First of all, she was immediately aware of the fact that she was naked. Her second realization was that she wasn't alone; there was a pair of arms encircling her frame, mottled with freckles and undeniably muscular.

She sat bolt upright, pulling the sheets up around herself. She turned and her heart skidded in her chest. The boy in bed beside her blinked his eyes open sleepily, their intense blue as dreamy as ever in the morning light.

"Roxy," he whispered, pulling her down towards him again.

"Hell," she replied, her voice frantic. Out of all people to loose her virginity too, it had to be Niall Finnegan. To make matters worse, she had been shitfaced. Godric, one of her brother's best mates. Hot best mates, but still. Fred would kill them both. "No—" she protested, and slapped him.

"Wait, what?" he mumbled, and suddenly it must have hit him. His eyes widened, and he jerked away from her, the covers secure around his waist. "No. We didn't—shit, we did. Freddie's going to kill me. Fuck, I hate myself right now. You're his sister. His little sister. Bloody hell, you were probably a virgin too. I'm so sorry," he apologized, raking his hands through his hair exasperatedly.

"He won't find out," Roxanne clarified, pulling the sheets around herself. "You have to get out, before anyone realizes you were here."

Unabashedly, Niall climbed out of her bed, not bothering to cover his fit frame. Roxanne gave a squeak and turned away, her face hot.

"Hey, not like you didn't see every inch of it last night," he reasoned, shrugging as he collected his pants and yanking them on. "And you're sure you don't want to tell your brother? I don't blame you if you hate me. That was a totally dick move of me, even if we were both drunk. I deserve it if Fred beats me up."

Roxanne sighed. "So we had sex. It's not a big deal. Dom does it all the time. So do you. So does James, and Fred, and Al and Scorp. He can't be angry; because that would make him a hypocritical arse."

"Yeah, Roxy, so people shag all the time. But it's not you that's getting shagged, and you're certainly not getting it on with me. That's what will make it so bad. Godric," he swore again, searching his pockets for his wand. Retrieving it from the floor beside the bed, Roxanne handed it to him gingerly.

"No one will know, because we'll never speak of it again, yeah? Not a word. What happened here stays here. Now get out. I have a killer hangover, my head is pounding." She winced, touching her fingers to her forehead.

Niall stepped towards her, as if thinking to hug her reassuringly, but then thought better of it. "Alright then. If that's what you want. Uh, I guess I'll get going."

He cleared his throat awkwardly before dashing out the door.

Roxanne sighed, falling back onto the bed. Her sheets still smelled like him; and she inhaled the scent of soap and cinnamon and boy. It couldn't have been that bad, because the parts she could remember were soft kisses and warmth and the taste of firewhiskey on his mouth.

But she couldn't tell. If she saw Niall in the hall, in the common room—it didn't matter. She couldn't look at him any differently. Because if her brother found out what they had done, she was royally screwed.

**Oooohhhhhh, snap! It was a long chapter, but there was a lot to write. I like depicting Roxanne as a girl who has this thirst for freedom and just wants to go crazy. I snuck a little Scorose in there, in case you didn't catch that. Like I said, slow build up in that department. Dom was wild… as usual. More on her later, because I love her bad girl persona. James and Anna… it's endgame, but I want them to have a hate love situation, because they've always competed and James is struggling with his feelings because all of the sudden he's realizing that he might actually like Anna. Anyway…. I hope you enjoyed it, please do review! Thanks so much for reading, love you all!**

**Xoxo- NotsoSugarQueen**


End file.
